Mother of sacred time
obscure and vague like

sorrow of yesterdays
long forgotten

ministering urn of upheaval
an open crystallization

of shapes bears witness
to a grain from the smallest

angstrom scaled in pale whites,
sub-atomic – so small

even creation cannot perceive
its existence, an imminent insouciance,

like states of missed understanding,
only the light, a pause of photons

can grasp the attendance of
my heart & gives way to

divine particles, to know you –
, now ,
and be known.

 

© K. James Ribble